After Guantanamo, Nazir is discovering what it means to be free

 For Nazir Lep, freedom means more than being free from confinement. It means rebuilding a life that was once put on hold.

Nazir Lep’s new sanctuary is a house built by his brother Najib and named Teratak Pak Jay, a reminder of his childhood nickname.

MUAR:

For Nazir Lep, his life these days revolves around the simple things – raising goats, cattle and chickens, and tending to an oil palm smallholding.

During the fruit season, he helps relatives collect durians intended for the market.

But for a man who had lived almost two decades in the US military-run Guantanamo detention facility, that ordinary life in Kampung Jeram Masjid carries a very different meaning.

Rather than feeling like freedom, it just feels like another prison. 

“I just walked out of a prison into a ‘bigger prison’,” he told FMT at his home.

After years surrounded by walls and separated by bars, and with an unchanging daily routine, freedom is not simply about having his handcuffs removed or no longer hearing the cell door lock behind him.

Rather than the end of a struggle, freedom for Nazir turned out to be the start of another – adapting to a society and a life that had changed considerably during his absence.

He is still learning how to live as a free man while navigating the negative perceptions of some members of society that he is an extremist.

Nazir said he has come to realise that independence and freedom come with their own burdens – responsibility, fear, and the need to start over.

Despite those concerns, the 50-year-old is confident he can navigate life, especially after enduring years of physical and psychological torment following his detention by the CIA in Thailand in 2003.

He and fellow Malaysian Farik Amin were detained over allegations that they had conspired in connection with the 2002 Bali bombings, which killed 202 people. Both pleaded guilty in 2024 to conspiring with Indonesian national Encep Nurjaman, better known as Hambali, who was linked to the planning of the attacks.

“I’m trying to earn a living like any other villager. Alhamdulillah, my family has also been very supportive,” said Nazir, who married on Sept 14 last year.

Nazir raises cattle and goats for sale, especially during the Aidiladha season, to help cover his living expenses.

His brother Najib, a former Bukit Pasir assemblyman, built a house for him, the youngest in the family, so he could start a new life. The home was named Teratak Pak Jay, after Nazir’s family nickname.

Two decades of life lost

Freedom has also forced Nazir to confront the loss of one thing that can never be returned – time.

He said he began his detention at Guantanamo in 2006 but only began to communicate with his family “around 2017”. Their communication was via Skype. Even then, their conversations were screened and did not take place in real time.

“Before that, my family did not receive any news about me. They thought I was dead,” he said, his voice tinged with sadness as he recalled conversations with his family, including news of his mother’s death six years earlier.

“I was informed about my mother’s death through a telegram, two weeks after she had passed away.”

The darkest days

Recalling the darkest period of his life, Nazir said the CIA took him to a location known as a “black site” after his arrest in Thailand, where he was subjected to torture, including being suspended by his hands for months while being given only water.

Upon arriving at Guantanamo, he was isolated from the outside world. For him, it was a form of psychological torture. “Not seeing crowds or vehicles for 20 years – eventually, you get used to it.”

While he always harboured hopes of freedom, Nazir admitted that there were times when he almost lost hope of ever leaving prison. This was particularly intense given his status as a high-value detainee.

Among those who were in prison with him were some of the key planners of the Sept 11, 2001 attacks on the World Trade Centre in New York and other targets in the United States.

Nazir eventually began to express his longing for freedom in art. A piece of artwork from 2022 depicts a man standing behind iron bars, gazing out at the vast sea as the sun sets. Beneath it is a single word: “Guantanamo”.

He said the piece represented his hope of leaving the detention facility, even though he had once believed freedom might remain impossible until his final breath.

A drawing by Nazir in 2022 captures in colour his hope of freedom despite knowing that the chances were slim.

Apart from that deeply symbolic work, Nazir produced more than 10 pieces of artwork while in detention.

“Whatever came into my mind, I expressed it through these drawings,” he said, adding that his lawyers supplied him with paper and art supplies.

Free at last

Then came an unexpected moment – an episode that still feels like a dream to Nazir. It was one day in December 2024.

On that day, the camp commander told him he would be flown out without indicating where his destination would be. Still in disbelief, Nazir prepared himself for what he assumed would be a long journey.

Two photographs of Nazir taken by an NGO personnel while he was in detention now adorn a wall at his home.

“My face was covered and my hands and feet were shackled. Imagine travelling for three days, including layovers, on a military aircraft … I couldn’t even talk to Farik (who was released together with him),” he said.

Only when the aircraft doors opened after landing and he saw Malaysian military personnel waiting on the tarmac that he became convinced his long journey was truly over.

He still remembers the date that changed everything – Dec 17, 2024, when a life suspended for more than two decades began to move forward again, and Nazir began to discover what freedom truly meant. - FMT